


The World was Still

by gallabich



Category: South Park
Genre: Aged up characters, Alcohol, M/M, Sexual Content, music celebrity stan, songfic sort of, underage in the very beginning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-09
Updated: 2017-12-09
Packaged: 2019-02-12 11:22:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,630
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12958137
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gallabich/pseuds/gallabich
Summary: There's a price to pay when you choose fame and fortune. Leaving home and not returning for ten years is one of them. Everything's changing, but Stan is determined to get into contact with his best friend again.





	The World was Still

**Author's Note:**

> This was a fic I started back in March and I finally finished. It was supposed to be a 2,000 word oneshot but I got too attached and now it's 10,000 words. 
> 
> It was inspired by the song 'Often' by Abhi//Dijon. I highly recommend listening to it either before and/or after reading this.

      Kyle’s hands were shaking as they were gripping the steering wheel tightly. It sent a sharp pain to Stan’s heart that went straight down to his stomach. The moment the words came out of Stan’s mouth earlier that week, Kyle has been an absolute wreck. Cartman joked Stan countless of times, saying he’d be like every other teeny bopper out there. He’d let the fame get to his head and he’d be the biggest asshole/drug addict who was on the news every minute of the day. It got on Kyle’s nerves so much that he was suspended for school for a week for shoving his head against the locker. Cartman had a broken nose and the locker was permanently dented.

Stan has never seen his best friend this upset. He looked down at the 2 six packs of bud light they took from Kyle’s fridge and sighed, “Kyle…” he just wanted to say his name. He didn’t really know what to say besides a million ‘I’m sorrys’. Yet, he knew it wouldn’t help. It wouldn’t take away the fact that Stan had already agreed to this nearly a week ago.

“Why do you have to go, dude?” Kyle finally looked over at him. His beautiful green eyes were on the verge of tears, and his orange curls were sticking out of his hat. His hat that should have been too tight on him by now. But he didn’t really grow that much, not like Stan or Cartman had, “Why can’t you just wait a little while? Graduate high school, and get a music degree in college. That way you’re 10 times better. You don’t have to go through with this.”

“But I _want_ to,” Stan looked away from him, his voice shaking, “mom and dad have been looking there for a while anyways. They found a house we can stay in. It’s getting hard for dad, too. People are starting to get suspicious on who Lorde really is. I just….got lucky.”

                As Kyle finally parked at the small hill above Stark’s Pond, he got out and sat up on the hood, hands going under his arms for warmth. Stan got out and sat next to him, ripping one of the beers out.  He pushed his thumb hard against the bottom of the can until it broke open and quickly handed it to Kyle, who pressed the newly made opening to his mouth and popping open the top. Stan did the same thing with his own, chugging down the whole thing quickly. Stan leaned against the windshield, staring up at the night sky. This was something he was going to miss. He and Kyle had done this every Friday night for the past three years. Stan would sleepover at Kyle’s, and once his parents and Ike were sound asleep, Kyle would take his mom’s car and the two would come up to Stark’s Pond and hang out. Sometimes Cartman and Kenny were with them, sometimes they were high, sometimes drunk, or sometimes it was just the two of them; completely sober. It was his favorite thing to do with his best friend.

“You won’t be able to see them,” Kyle stammered, still sounding like he was going to cry. Stan looked over at him and Kyle gestured up to the sky, “the stars. Hollywood’s a big city. Big lights. Like that one time we went to Denver and Craig counted planes instead of stars. It’s like that.” Stan remembered that night. It was almost somber to hear Craig, a guy who found interest in stars and space, counting at least 6 airplanes instead of telling them almost all the constellations that were visible during the Fourth of July. Stan bit his lip at the memory and grabbed a beer, doing another shotgun. If Kyle was going to be this upset, might as well become slightly inebriated.

“You know I’ll come back,” Stan rolled over until his face was pressed against Kyle’s waist. Kyle sighed and opened up another can of beer, “One album, dude. Just one. I want to know…I can be better than my dad.”

Kyle chugged the beer down before throwing the empty can on the ground and lay back, putting a hand on Stan’s shoulder, “Stan,” he brought his hand up to his best friend’s face, rubbing his thumb across his cheeks. There was a little bit of stubble and some acne, but his face was still softer than ever, “You’re already better than your dad. You don’t need fame or a stupid album to prove it. You don’t have to go. You can live with me,” the tears began flowing and voice began to crack, despite how strong he tried to stay, “we’re already halfway done with sophomore year. Another year and a half living with us won’t bother mom. She’d love to have you here than Hollywood. What if you don’t get as famous and your mom is disappointed, or your parents get a divorce an-“

Stan silenced Kyle by kissing him deeply. He knew his best friend wouldn’t stop rambling different worst case scenarios that Stan was already nervous about. He brought a hand up to Kyle’s hat and took it off while he opened his mouth and prying his tongue in the other’s mouth. Kyle tasted like the menthol cigarettes that he had on their way up here. It usually bothered Stan, but right now he couldn’t care less. All that he cared about was kissing Kyle as much as he could before 7 in the morning when his flight left.

They both finished the remaining 8 cans of beers; which was way over Kyle’s limit. Stan had half a bottle of whiskey before they left so his vision began to become blurry. Yet, they still were sober enough talk and reminisce about every moment they had shared together. From preschool up to the night they drove to Denver with Kenny, Cartman, and Craig and those guys. Kyle finished a pack of cigarettes, his eyes still filled with tears that were becoming hard to keep in. Stan’s grip on his hand tightened as he lead Kyle into the backseat of the car, turning the heat up, “I promise I’ll come back,” he fiddled with the radio to try to find that old folk station that his dad played in the car a lot.

“When?” Kyle whispered, pulling him back to lay with him. It was getting cold, and he was shivering as they waited for the car to heat up, “in 5 years? 10? 20? I can’t wait forever.”

“I know.” Stan pressed his forehead to Kyle’s, kissing him again. Kyle quickly wrapped his hands around Stan’s neck, breath becoming shaky as he tried to stop himself from crying. Stan put one hand on the other teen’s back and pulled him onto his lap. Kyle straddled his waist as their lips stayed attached. Stan ran his hands up under Kyle’s shirt, who whined out in discomfort of the freezing hands.

Stan smirked against his lips and rubbed his best friend’s waist, whose breathing became more unsteady. He wasn’t hard to break, especially when he was this intoxicated. Stan broke from his lips, leaving a trail of kissed down to his collarbone. He gave it a few small kisses before nipping and sucking at it. Kyle moaned and ground against Stan’s hips. Stan was trembling when the redhead began unzipping his jeans and he made himself sit up, “You got lube in here?” Kyle had a history of trying to do it dry when he was drunk. It always ended horribly. Car sex was already uncomfortable in Stan’s opinion, but something about it excited Kyle, as he always insisted Stan to fuck his brains out when they did this.

“Don’t need it.” Kyle grunted as he began rubbing Stan’s erection through his boxers.

Stan rolled his eyes and gripped Kyle’s wrist, “I got a better idea.” He gestured Kyle to come closer and Kyle complied, straddling Stan’s chest, and took out his erection.

Stan looked up at his best friend as he licked the underside of it, and Kyle had to lean over to hold the handle above them, letting out an exasperated sigh. Stan took in his whole cock, groaning as he did so. Kyle let out a moan and rolled his hips against Stan’s mouth slightly. Stan bobbed his head faster holding onto Kyle’s hips tightly, “Oh fuck!” Kyle took a tight hold of Stan’s hair as he came, not even lasting a minute. He could hear Stan gag and he looked at him in horror. When Stan first started sucking him off, he would usually throw up right after. It made them both feel horrible and awkward for the rest of the night. Nowadays, after two years of practice, it only happens occasionally. 

Fortunately, Stan didn’t throw up, and he swallowed it all with a little bit dripping down his chin. Kyle moved back a little and looked at the way Stan looked, trying not to get hard again. He tugged on Stan’s boxers, pulling his dick out and immediately taking it in his mouth. Stan trembled as he ran his hand through Kyle’s hair who bobbed his head with no rhythm. He was too drunk and he knew it, because once Stan’s cock was wet, he slowly licked the underside as he removed his mouth from his cock and slowly rubbed it, “Fuck,” Stan whispered.

Kyle smirked and leaned down to kiss Stan’s balls, and one hand rubbing up and down his shaft. Stan was trying to keep in his moans, despite it being almost two in the morning and alone in the wilderness, “Oh Stanley,” Kyle slowly moved his hand up and down Stan’s length, nearly sending Stan over the edge, “we’re alone. Let me know how much you’ll miss me.” Stan sighed deeply, arching his back as Kyle moved faster, licking up the pre-cum that was leaking out. Stan let out a loud moan as he came, immediately gripping Kyle’s hair to pull him up so he could kiss him again.

Stan teared up, holding Kyle’s face as he let the tears stream down, “I wish I could take you with me. You’re so fucking gorgeous.” He whined, kissing his chin.

Kyle couldn’t help but chuckle and wiped the semen that was still stained on Stan’s chin, “and you’re drunk.” He kissed the top of Stan’s head and put his hands in between Stan’s arms. Stan put his hands in Kyle’s back pockets, kissing Kyle’s shoulder when he leaned down against his chest, “I love you.” Kyle whispered. Stan mumbled incoherently in response, relishing in this moment, and listening to the static of the song of the radio. Their world was still, and the two wanted it to last forever.

                It didn’t last forever. There was a soft tap on the window that woke Kyle up. He rubbed his eyes groggily and looked up at the window above their heads. It was completely fogged over, but the voice was too familiar. He slowly rolled down the window and saw officer Barbrady in front of him, “Kyle?”

“S-sorry. Hold on.” He quickly rolled the window back up and resituated himself, and Stan, back in their pants. The sun was already peaking over the horizon. They must have been sleeping for hours.

                Sheila wasn’t as mad as Kyle was expecting about the stolen car and beer cans. She gave him a quick lecture about how just because he had his driver’s permit didn’t mean he could steal her car, not knowing that he’s been doing this way before he got his permit. But she didn’t need to know that.

She let him go with the Marshes to the Denver airport, which Kyle didn’t know if that was the best decision he made, or the worst. Randy, Sharon, and Shelley went through security, telling Stan that he had until 6:30 to be across security and to meet them at their gate.

Stan and Kyle stared out at the window in front of the security, holding hands. Stan was going to miss the snow, the stars, and all the memories of South Park, Colorado. He sighed and took his jacket off, handing it to Kyle, who stared at him in confusion, “Stan this is yours. I can’t-“

“I don’t need it in L.A. Please. Keep it, dude. Please.” His voice was cracking.

Kyle took it and hugged his best friend, “Don’t keep me waiting.”

Stan let the tears fall holding Kyle in his arms tightly as he could. He kissed him. Then again. And again. He kissed him more times than he could count before it finally hit 6:30 and he had to go through customs. He didn’t keep his eyes off him until he was out of sight. 

* * *

 

_Kyle_

_I’m sorry for not writing to you sooner. Or even answering any of your calls or replying to your messages. I know what you’re thinking. That I don’t care about you or anything. But I do. Trust me I do. I’ve just been absolutely bombarded with tours, recording, featuring in a ton of songs, they even want me to do a stupid fucking acne commercial. Being a celebrity is a lot of fucking work and I have no time to myself. I meant to send you a birthday card back in May, but I ended up going to my first tour instead. I heard you were there. In Denver. You probably saw me looking like a total idiot. I did get your birthday present by the way, thank you so much. I’m working on a second album. I don’t really care about this one that much. The songs are whatever and my manager keeps changing up the tone and they’re making me play bunch of bullshit songs that I don’t even like. I write about things I’m passionate about. But the songs they’re making me do are faggy teen songs about how great it is to be gay, or even shit so it sounds like I’m out there fucking a ton of guys; which is totally untrue by the way. They’re really taking this ‘gay teen celebrity’ to advantage. I’m planning to end it all after this. Maybe go on my first and last world tour and that’s it. I’ll be back to South Park by the time I’m 19, sober up, and you and I can run away. We can get married, and just move to Maine and live off on my celebrity money. You can go to school too, and be whatever the fuck you said you wanted to be. A surgeon? FBI agent? Pharmacist? Dude you changed your mind every two months. I’m so sorry I’m not back yet, Kyle. I hope Cartman isn’t driving you too crazy, I hope Kenny is still in school and didn’t overdose, and I hope that little mountain town hasn’t gone up into flames yet…or again. I know you said you can’t wait forever. But please, just wait a little longer. I promise we’ll get married. And we’ll run away from everything. From L.A. From fame. From South Park._

_I love you,  
Stan. _

Stan’s eyes skimmed through the letter over again. Before he sent it off, he made a copy of it. That way just in case Kyle responded, he’d know exactly what it had said. He was shitfaced and emotional when he wrote it. He was hoping to hear back from his best friend, but he never did. Ten long years and he hasn’t seen Kyle’s face. Ten long years and he hasn’t had a conversation with him. Yet the feel of his lips and the taste of his breath still lingered on him, ten years later. Once he sent that letter, he stopped hearing anything from Kyle Broflovski. He never went to any of his concerts, when Kenny himself had tried to scrape up as much money as he could just to get in the backstage with him. Sometimes even Butters was there. The security had to escort a drunk Cartman out of the front row just a few years ago. He remembered even seeing Craig and Tweek in the front row too. But never Kyle. Stan sighed and folded the paper back in his pocket as the plane landed, back to Denver.

When Stan left his gate, he was automatically greeted with Kenny, someone who he hasn’t seen in just two years. He looked much cleaner, his gap tooth still prominent, an orange parka still on, but his hood wasn’t up and Stan could actually understand him. Kenny grinned widely and pulled him into a hug, “It’s so great seeing you outside of a stage, dude!”

Stan smiled and hugged back with just the same tightness. Kenny definitely was somebody he was glad was still in his life. Stan shook a little as his body began to get used to the cold, “It’s good to be back, man. Butters isn’t with you?”

Kenny shook his head, “He’s got work. But don’t worry, you’ll see enough of him.  How long you planning to stay?” They both began walking out of the airport and to the busy parking lot. People were already starting to follow them around and screaming out Stan’s name.

Stan shrugged, “Until my manager starts harassing me, I guess. Who gives a shit. I’m just happy to be back.”

They got in Kenny’s car and immediately began catching up; even though they see each other every couple of years, the time they do talk is very limited as Kenny isn’t the only one who went backstage to see Stan. Kenny had dropped out of high school around the end of sophomore year, just three months after Stan left. He was offered a job as a mechanic that summer and has been working there ever since. Many people moved out and went to college. The only ones who came back after graduating was Butters, who got a job as a child therapist. Tweek unsurprisingly owned Tweak Brother’s Coffee, and was married to Craig for almost 6 years now. Jimmy was the news reporter, as his stuttering reduced greatly also did stand up every Wednesday and Friday nights at Skeeter’s. Cartman was a cop, which was probably the most unbearable out of everything Kenny had to endure.

“What about Kyle?” Stan asked. He didn’t really care about anyone else. He’s only coming back to South Park to catch up with Kenny and try to get a hold of Kyle.

“I’m not sure, dude,” he said, “he was dating some guy for a little while in high school, then he moved to Denver for college. I never heard from him since. He sort of stopped talking to me after I dropped out. Saying that I needed to be responsible and he wasn’t going to coddle me anymore or some shit like that.”

Stan looked out the window, disappointed to hear Kyle wasn’t here. He tried to get his mind off him and just enjoy the fact that he was finally back home. Even though it hasn’t changed much, something seemed oddly different about it. Maybe it was just not being here for ten years. As they pulled into the parking lot, Stan gaped at Kenny, who flashed a grin.

“Surprise. It went on the market three years ago. Butters and I wanted a place bigger than that shitty apartment we had. So, we bought it.”

“Holy shit dude,” Stan scoffed, staring at his childhood home, “that’s so awesome,” The two grabbed Stan’s bags and headed inside, and Stan couldn’t believe that the tall, handsome man who greeted them was actually fucking Leopold Butters Scotch.

“Well heya Stan! Long time, no see!” just like Kenny, Butters pulled Stan into a hug and Stan couldn’t believe it. This was Butters. The same kid who was 5 inches shorter than him when they were 16, and who now stood a proud 6 foot 1. This was the kid who they would bully, torment, prank, and made him go through hell and back, and he was engaged to Kenny and a fucking therapist of South Park, and to top it all off, he was hugging Stan. As he pulled out of the hug, he still had his hands on his shoulders, “I really like your music! _Mountain Town_ was definitely my favorite!”

Kenny let out a chuckle, “You should have seen this whole place when that song released. You couldn’t go anywhere for weeks without anyone singing it or the radio playing it over and over again.”

“Especially Kyle! Geez, he was always hummin’ the chorus in class. The teachers always yelled at him.”

This caught Stan’s attention, “Kyle liked it?” Stan felt a wave of relief. He was terrified that Kyle was pissed at him for that stupid song, “Do you know where Kyle is, Butters?”

“Uh well, he went to Denver the minute we graduated, a full ride to the University there,” Butters sat down, looking at his feet. Stan felt like there was something that Butters was hiding. But he let it slide, “I don’t really know anything. But Hanukkah is coming up, maybe you can talk to Mrs. Broflovski about seein’ him!”

“They still live next door?” Stan asked, looking out of the window. There were new sets of cars in the parking lot. The dodge that he and Kyle drove to Stark’s Pond was missing.

“Oh yeah! Mrs. Broflovski is home right now! You should go talk to her. She’s always askin’ us about you when me or Ken come back from your concert.”

Stan continued to stare at the Broflovski household, before excusing himself and going back outside during the cold, rubbing his hands together nervously. As he knocked on the door, he felt his gut trying to escape from his mouth. What if Kyle was home and he answered the door? What if his parents were pissed because he never called to check in, and because of that, Kyle went into a deep state of depression? His different scenarios were gone once a dark-haired scrawny boy with thin lips and beady eyes opened the door and stared at him for a second, “Stan?”

“I-Ike?”

Ike smirked and punched Stan’s shoulder playfully, “Dude! What’s up? How long has it been? I haven’t seen you since I was, Christ I don’t know? 11 or something?” he went inside, practically pulling Stan in, “Hey, Ma! Look who showed up!”

“Your brother already?!” A woman about a hundred pounds less than she was last time Stan saw her with hair (in the same beehive style) that was beginning to grey marched into the living room, “I wasn’t expecting him for anot-OH my _gosh_! Stanley Marsh is that you?!”

Stan smiled sheepishly, “Hey, Mrs. Broflovski.”

For the third time that day, Stan was pulled into a tight hug. He smiled and hugged back. Sheila was like a second mom to him. She was always there for him and Kyle, even when Kyle was terrified over her reaction once he came out to her. Despite how strict she was, she still loved her son no matter what, “How have you been doing?” She asked eagerly as she pulled out of the hug, insisting that he take a seat, “I saw that you went on your first world tour, was that any fun?”

“More exhausting than fun,” Stan chuckled, “I’m taking a hiatus. It might be permanent. Who knows. I’m getting tired of being famous.”

“Oh I bet! Make yourself at home. I was just making some tea.” She disappeared in the kitchen again, and Stan looked around. Not much has changed. There were a few new pictures of Ike and Kyle in their senior pictures, and graduation pictures. He looked at Kyle’s. His hair seemed to be maintained in that cap somehow, his freckles were even more faded than the last time he saw him, and the toothy grin he had nearly made Stan fall backwards. That was the Kyle Stan had remembered. But nearly ten years passed. He could be different now. Stan had a million flashbacks of sitting on this couch while playing video games, watching Terrance and Phillip, and a few other things that they should have not been doing. It almost made his heart sink. Sheila came back in with a cup of tea, placing it on the coffee table for Stan, “So what’s been going on? How’s your parents?”

“Uh,” Stan took a sip, prepared to tell this story, “they’re alright I guess. Shelley got married a few years back and lives in Seattle. Mom and dad….they got a divorce 7 years ago. Mom lives in Kings, California to be close to me but she’s hoping to move back here or even to Seattle sometime soon. California lifestyle isn’t just hers, and I think she finally got sick of dad’s bullshit,” Stan let out an awkward chuckle, knowing it wasn’t too amusing, but definitely unsurprising, “You probably heard Lorde retired 3 years ago. Dad decided to finally stop and is now just a regular geologist in L.A.”

“Oh goodness. I’m sorry to hear about the divorce. We’ve been dealing with a similar situation too actually.”

“Oh…you and Gerald….?” Stan was a little surprised. Their marriage always seemed very healthy, unlike his parents’.

“Oh gosh no! Kyle, sweetie. Didn’t you know?”

“Kyle?! _Divorce_?!” Stan widened his eyes and Ike bursted out laughing, Sheila yelled at him to be quiet,  “He was _married?!”_

“Why…yes, Stanley. I thought you two kept in contact this whole entire time.” 

“Uh…no. We stopped talking recently after I moved. It was hard for me to keep in touch.”

“Hmm. Well that was around the time Mason came into the picture. I never liked him. Something seemed off and I thought it was strange how they got engaged when Kyle turned 18. Then the wedding was three months later. I told Kyle how much I didn’t trust that boy. So it was no surprise when he called me just this past August about a divorce. Gerald and I have been trying to help him out the most we can. We want him to move back at least for a little while. But he refuses.”

Stan took in every single word she said, but was till completely and utterly flabbergasted. Kyle Broflovski got fucking married. Married at 18. Married after 3 months some guy proposed to him. He couldn’t fucking believe it, “That’s….shocking. I guess I should’ve kept in contact.”

“Oh don’t blame yourself Stanley,” Sheila said, “Kyle’s a little bit of a headstrong boy. And Mason just swooped him off his feet is all.”

Stan scoffed. The only person who has ever swept Kyle Broflovski off of his feet was himself. And that wasn’t even easy. It took him two years. 7th grade and 8th grade to finally convince him to start dating him. So this ‘Mason’ kid must have been a _real_ fucking character, “Is he coming home any time soon?”

“Why yes! Hanukkah starts on Wednesday, I told him to be here by Tuesday, but knowing how he is he probably won’t be here until Wednesday afternoon. Do you want me to tell him you’re in town?”

“No,” Stan blinked at himself in surprise by saying that, “Uh…no, I’d like to surprise him.” Many different scenarios went through his mind of what Kyle would do the minute he saw him. Scream. Punch him. Tell him how much he hated him. Kissed him. Cried. It all played over and over again in his mind.

“Gosh Stanley. You’re such a wonderful boy. I’ll make sure he’s still coming and try to convince him if he ends up changing his mind.”

 

                Stan made himself back at home in South Park. He slept in his old room, which seemed so empty without his toybox or computer, or even his Road Warrior poster right above his bed. Many things had changed yet many things were the same. He talked to almost everyone in town filling them in about his fame and fortune, his parent’s divorce, and that nasty court case he was in several years ago. A memory he didn’t like going down, but a memory that media hasn’t let go. By Wednesday afternoon, he stayed at Kenny’s house, pacing back in forth nervously for Kyle to come back.

“Jesus,” he said, looking out the window every thirty seconds, “I haven’t talked to him in 10 years. What the fuck do I say to him?” Sheila told him he’d be home around 3pm. It was 2:55 and if Kyle was the same, he was very punctual.

“You were able to talk to Mrs. Broflovski just fine. It’ll be like that!” Butters exclaimed.

“No no, that’s his mother. God. Why the fuck did he get married?! Did you two know about it.”

Kenny shrugged, “Like I said. We stopped talking when I dropped out. I didn’t really pay attention to anyone for a while either.”

“I remember him datin’ that Mason fella just before he moved to Denver. Mason had just came in with his navy parents! But I didn’t expect ‘em to get married or nothin’.” Butters tried to get Stan to sit down, but Stan just glanced out at the window again, claiming he heard a car, “Mason was always a little strange. Didn’t really make sense that Kyle started datin’ him recently after meetin’ ‘im. Eric claimed it was a rebound. And he had to keep his mind occupied.”

Stan scoffed, but knew it was probably true. Kyle was strong, but if he was that lonely, that must have been the only reason why he got with another person and got hitched so quickly. There was no doubt in his mind that Cartman’s prediction was right. And just as predicted the moment it was 3 o clock, a familiar grey 2007 Dodge Durango pulled up into the driveway and Stan’s heartbeat went at least 40 beats faster. He had a brown trapper hat instead of a green one, no red curls in sight this time. And a familiar brown jacket clutched to him tightly as he fumbled with his keys. He glanced over at Kenny’s house, as if he knew something. And Stan backed away quickly, even though it was impossible that Kyle saw him. His face matured. He wasn’t the same 15-year-old on that cold February night before Stan left. He wasn’t the same nearly 18-year-old Stan saw in the graduation picture. He was grown up.

* * *

 

                Kyle drummed his fingers hard against his knee as his father gave out the prayers. As much as he loved spending time with his family, he couldn’t help but realize that this was the first Hanukkah he was spending without Mason in seven years. He had put his phone on silence to ignore any calls from his ex-husband and whoever others might call. He hasn’t talked to nearly any of his Denver friends in several weeks, because he didn’t feel like explaining what happened. There really wasn’t anything to explain. Just that Mason wasn’t the guy for him. That’s that. Kyle never loved him. Once his father was done, Kyle quickly began eating, not saying a word nor looking at any of his family members.

Sheila could see her son’s distress, and she put a hand over his own, “Bubbeh. I know these past couple of months have been hard on you. I cannot imagine how it must feel,” She gripped his hand tighter, making Kyle look up at her. She had a reassuring smile, “but I promise it’s going to get better for you, sweetheart.”

Kyle scoffed, taking his hand out from under his mother’s, “What? Is this how you’re going to convince me to move back to this hellhole? Leave my friends, quit my job? Come back to this fucking place just because of some stupid divorce?”

“Kyle, that’s not what your mother is saying at a-“

“Oh whatever dad,” Kyle yelled out, standing up hastily, “I don’t think either of you understand! This place is like a black hole for me. There’s nothing good living here. Ever since-“ Kyle choked, he’s certain he hasn’t said that name out loud in six years, “Since…Stan left, this place has become unbearable. At least in Denver I’m away from the chaos, and especially Eric fucking Cartman!” he picked up his plate and harshly washed, ignoring Ike’s stupid fucking laughter. He closed his eyes and faced his mother, “I’m sorry. I just…I really don’t want to live here again. Please understand that.” He swallowed hard and went back up to his room.

                The minute he looked at his phone, Kyle cursed at himself. He had five missed calls and three text messages from Red. They went to the same college, the same major, and became fairly close. When Mason kicked Kyle out, she insisted that he lived with her. He didn’t want to be a burden, but trying to find an affordable apartment in Denver was a difficult task. She told him to call her once he got there, something he forgot to do, he quickly redialed her number, “Hey Red, sorry. We had dinner and my parents wanted me to fill them in an-“

“Kyle, it’s okay. I just wanted to make sure you got there safely.” Red interrupted. She usually always did when Kyle began his unnecessary rambling.

“Yeah. Yeah I did,” Kyle heard the doorbell ring, and Kyle was curious who was coming over late in the evening. He saw no car outside. He wondered if it was a kid playing a stupid prank, “did anyone call?”

“Your lawyer did,” Red mentioned. Kyle made sure to give his information to the landline until he was back home. The last thing he needed this Hanukkah was getting bombarded with a ton of divorce lawyers calling, “I told him you were on vacation and that you wouldn’t be back until New Years. I don’t think Mason will like that.”

“Fuck Mason!” Kyle heard his dad, mom, and Ike downstairs laughing, and he closed his door to muffle out the sounds. Someone was in his house, and he didn’t even want to know, “If he tries to call, tell him to fuck off. I mean it Red. Use those fucking words. Say, ‘Kyle said to fuck off. He’ll call you when he gets home’ and hang up. I don’t care. He’s got family. He should go see them for a change for Christ’s sake.” He heard footsteps on the stairs. It was probably his mother telling him that they had company.

“Alright. I’ll let you know if anything comes up. Please remember to call when you start driving back, I’ll remind you just in case.”

“Kay. Thanks Red.”

“And don’t worry too much. I know you don’t like it there, but you’re away from here. Try to enjoy yourself for a little while. If you see anyone. Tell them I said hi.”

Kyle smiled, “Will do. G’night.” With one swift movement, he locked his phone and tossed it on his bed, putting his hands over his face. The last thing he wanted to worry about was this stupid divorce situation. Red was right though, he needed to enjoy being back home. He heard a soft knock at his door, something foreign. Usually his mother would knock loudly with his name following it. His dad would knock and barge in. Ike would barge in. The knocking didn’t continue when Kyle stayed silent, “Come in.” he said softly, not turning around to see who it was.

The door opened slowly, but still no voice. Ike was probably wearing a stupid costume trying to scare him. Kyle furrowed his eyebrows and spun around, “What Ik-“

It wasn’t Ike.

Kyle nearly felt his gut in his throat as he tried to speak.

“Kyle,” Stan’s voice was hardly even a whisper, just like the last night they spent together when he said his name on their way to Stark’s pond.

Kyle stood up slowly, his knees shaking, he could feel his eyes welling up with tears. He took one step forward, then ran to him, right into Stan’s arms. His hands went straight to Stan’s hair, running his fingers over the soft wavy strands, “You…came back.”

Stan closed his eyes tightly, allowing the tears to flow. He buried his nose in Kyle’s hair, he grew an additional 5 inches since he left. Kyle only 3, “I told you I would…it just took longer than expected.”

Kyle didn’t stop smiling as he closed the door behind him and took Stan’s hand and sat on the bed with him. They were only inches away, “What are you doing back?”  he asked very calmy, trying to maintain the shaking in his voice. He wasn’t even this nervous on his wedding day.

Stan shrugged, “Got bored. I just got back from my world tour a few days ago. I just needed a little break. This celebrity life is too much. After one fucking album.”

“Two now,” Kyle smirked, and Stan had to hold in the urge to kiss him right there. He studied his features. His trapper hat was still on his head, but no curls were sticking out this time. The freckles on his face faded, but they’ve been doing that the older Kyle got, Stan noticed. His eyes made him look more tired. Whether it from six years of school, the divorce, or whatever else. It was obvious he was just as exhausted as Stan was, “You finally got homesick or what?”

“Well, I mean, I did make a promise to you.” Stan’s smile then quickly faltered, he stared over at the wall where Kyle’s desk was. The computer was no longer there and there were files and photos that probably belonged to Gerald, “Mom and dad got a divorce a while ago. Shelley moved to Seattle. It’s been a little depressing...I heard about Mason.”

Kyle groaned and put a hand over his face, “You’ve already talked to mom?” He sighed and looked to where Stan was staring, “Yeah. I don’t know. He was some navy brat who moved here during the summer before 11th grade. We started talking a lot, Kenny dropped out and I didn’t wanna be chained up around Cartman. So I kind of just. Started hanging with him. Nobody cared about him because he was new. We started dating the beginning of 11th grade. He proposed to me on my 18th birthday we had a wedding at Denver right before college started. I don’t think I ever loved him. I could tell after our second anniversary. I just stuck with him because-“ Kyle hesitated, wondering how stupid he sounded. No doubt Stan was married already. Maybe even had a kid, “I didn’t want to live in a dorm or come back here. So I just. Stuck with it. Our whole relationship started getting worse when I started grad school,” He looked at Stan’s face, who had his full attention on him. Kyle let out a chuckle, “Sorry. I must sound stupid. I fucked it all up.”

      Stan smirked and bumped his knee against Kyle, who stiffened at the movement, “We all make mistakes, dude. I made the worst mistake at 16. Now every time I step outside I get bombarded with cameras in my face and stupid questions about this song, that song, this thing I said in the interview, some picture of me on The Rolling Stones. I saw some magazine screaming that I was drugged up on coke. I went on tumblr and some kid made this post calling me racist and homophobic because of Mountain Town. And they said I was only saying I was gay to get a bigger audience. I was on the news for nearly six fucking months when I was 17 because a 20 year old fucked me at a party; which was caught on tape and posted everywhere!” Stan bit his lip, reliving the memory and how awful those six months were. How his mother wouldn’t stop crying and fought with Randy nearly every night for a year. It was always about Stan. Sometimes about Randy. But mostly about Stan. He closed his eyes and tried to lower his voice, “They sent him to jail for having sex with a minor. I felt like total shit! It was like, nobody cared that I was drinking at 17, no one cared that I was smoking cigarettes or even weed and some other fucked up drugs, nobody cared that I had a song about sex, they cared about a fucking adult having sex with me. When they were acting like I was an adult!” He looked up at the ceiling and let out a chuckle, “now they’re acting like I’m _still_ a kid-but. They’re sexualizing me. 10 years ago, moms would be dragged by their 12-year-old daughters to see me. Now it’s the other way around. I’m getting women older than _my mother_ calling me sexy. You know how fucking _gross_ that is? Trust me, dude. Getting married the minute you graduate high school to a guy you don’t even know that well isn’t as near as fucked up as the shit I’ve done.”

Kyle stared at him for a while, and Stan was afraid of what he would say. Then, he snorted before laughing hysterically, Stan raised an eyebrow with a confused grin on his face. “Dude,” Kyle breathed out, holding onto his shoulder, “You should have seen this place when that ‘scandal’ was on the news. Your uncle was _pissed_ ,” he was grinning, something that hasn’t changed, “he wanted to shoot the guy dead. Everyone was talking about how cute and innocent you were, and how L.A. brainwashed you into what you are now. He wasn’t even that cute, Stan!”

“I know!” Stan couldn’t help but laugh with his best friend. He looked up at the ceiling. The sticky hands they threw up there when they were seven still stuck on the popcorn ceiling, “we were both so wasted. Drunk, and probably high on some other drugs. I felt awful! I helped him get his record expunged and gave him money to get to Canada. I still feel absolutely horrible.” He turned his body a little to face Kyle a little better, “It’s funny. He was the closest I had to a real relationship ever since I left.”

Kyle scoffed and elbowed his arm, “Oh bullshit. Didn’t you and Wendy hook back up? You had that one song about her.”

“Really Kyle? That was obviously about our relationship third grade up until you and I started dating. About how weird and rocky it was but how I thought that was love. Read between the lines, dude.” Kyle still didn’t look convinced, as there was a teasing smirk on his lips, “she’s married now. To some lawyer. She lives in Fort Collins. I talk to her sometimes. But not often.”

Kyle frowned, “You don’t talk to a lot of people often, do you?”

Stan finally gave up his fight to touch Kyle. He put a hand on his knee and let out a sigh, “Look. I really wanted to talk to you. To catch up. To thoroughly read your messages. To read the letters. But it got buried. A lot of times I stayed off any social media because I was getting unsolicited nudes. And then, I finally did write you. And…you never wrote back. So I’m not the only one to blame.”

“You sent me that four months after Mason and I began dating. I figured there was no real reason to respond. It took you a year to send the first one, and, to be quite honest Stan, I could tell you were probably a drunken mess when writng that. So why write to you when I was trying to move on, when you were going to take a year to respond and drunk at that.”

“Kyle, I was always drunk.”

“It doesn’t matter!” Kyle clenched his fists and stood up. Stan could tell he was holding back tears, “I _told_ you I needed you. I _told_ you to not keep me waiting because I couldn’t wait around forever. It was hard being alone. Kenny was always fucked up. Cartman wouldn’t leave me alone and it just worse and worse and-“ Kyle nearly choked as the tears began to flow, “things were going to continue to get worse if I stayed. So I had to make the decision. Keep fucking writing to you once a year and pining whenever the fuck you’d come back. Or move on. I chose to move on. It was stupid. But it was what I needed.”

He was nearly sobbing now. Kyle brought up a hand to his face to hide it, he was never the one to really cry in front of anyone. Stan got up from the bed and gently took Kyle’s hand into his own, other hand pressing against his cheek, “Kyle. You’re strong on your own. You don’t need anyone. It would have been hell, I know. But you’re strong enough. I’ve seen you do it before. Many _many_ times."

Kyle held Stan’s hand against his cheek tightly, “I didn’t want to. I hate this place. I was _always_ the smart one. I was _always_ the most independent, strong-willed, problem solver. Always. And once. Just this once. I wanted to finally have someone with me. I wanted someone by my side but y-“ he stopped himself before another sob let out, hiding his face against Stan’s neck.

Stan brought the hand that was on his cheek to the back of his head. He kissed the top of his hat, wishing he’d take it off so he could feel his hair again. Kyle’s arms wrapped tightly around Stan as he cried silently against his neck, “Shh,” Stan whispered, running his other hand up Kyle’s back, “I’m here. I’m not going anywhere.”

Kyle stared up at him with wet tired eyes, and pulled him into a kiss. Stan nearly melted at the feel of his lips again. It was a feeling that he missed. A feeling that he craved. A feeling that he dreamed of. Once they broke apart, they kissed again, and Stan sat back down on the bed, and Kyle crawled on top of him, straddling his lap. A small noise escaped from his lips as Stan gripped his hips tightly. Stan hesitated and looked at the closed door. Kyle chuckled, “Stan. We’re 26. We haven’t seen each other in 10 years. They should have seen this coming.”

“You sure about that?” Stan asked with his voice low. He remembered the three times he had to face the wrath of Sheila Broflovski for having sex with his son. It never ended well and one time Stan nearly jumped out the window half-naked. 

Kyle hummed and pressed his lips against the most sensitive part of Stan’s neck. Stan let out a sharp gasp and looked up at the ceiling. The minute Kyle began nipping at his adam’s apple, Stan grunted and flipped them over so he was on top, immediately grinding their hips together. "St-stan," Kyle moaned and pushed slightly upwards, hands shaking against Stan’s chest, “Look. I…I haven’t had…penetrate sex in like...I don’t know…5 years. Mason didn’t like it at all. And when things started getting tense between us, he kind of stopped caring.”

Stan scoffed, “Well. I guess that makes both of us out of practice. You’re the only person I’ve ever topped.” He slowly took Kyle’s shirt off along with his hat. He was almost disappointed. His hair was cut so short that the curls weren’t as prominent. Stan ran a hand through Kyle’s short hair as he kissed a nipple softly, then peppered small kisses until he got to his lower stomach. He sucked and licked at the side of Kyle’s hip, right below his naval, and the latter writhed and moaned under him. Once he was sure that he left a visible mark, he undid Kyle’s jeans, mouthing him through his boxers.

Kyle moaned and gripped his hair, “Stan, c’mon. If you don’t stop I’m gonna come already.” He was arching his back and trying to get his boxers off himself.

Stan just smirked and kept palming at Kyle’s erection, “Hold it in for me,” He leaned his head down and kissed his lower hip, down until he got to the band of Kyle’s boxers, “you can do that, can’t you? Just a little longer.” He slowly pulled down Kyle’s boxers, kissing each spot as he did, ignoring whatever hair got into his mouth. As he got to the head of his erection, Stan slowly licked off the dripping pre-cum and took half of it in his mouth, and held the very end tightly, but not too tight. Kyle moaned again and ground his hips against Stan’s mouth, who began to bob his head ever so slightly.

“Holy shit….St-Stan…” Kyle whimpered as he gripped onto Stan’s hair. He felt like he was going to come already, and it hasn’t even been a full minute. Stan looked up at him and slowly slid his mouth off of Kyle’s dick, which twitched at the sudden movement. Stan sat up on his knees and dug through his pockets, pulling out a bottle of unopened lube. Kyle scoffed, “You fucking planned this?”

“Hey. I was just coming here prepared. You really didn’t think I’d come here without thinking we would end up doing this?” Stan pulled his shirt off and poured a good portion of lube in his hand.

“Point taken,” Kyle smirked and looked at the man above him. His wavy black hair was already slick with sweat, he got a little hairier on his chest and face, but he was still very handsome, and the way his mouth was partly open as he rubbed the lube in his fingers, Kyle wanted him to get it over with and fuck him right then and there.

Stan prodded a finger before slipping one in, and Kyle gripped the bedsheets tightly. Stan put a second one in, and leaned down to kiss Kyle. He couldn’t believe that a man who was married him wouldn’t fuck him. He was always hard to get Kyle to try to top him, let alone frotting. Sometimes he would, when he was too tired and would let Stan ride him, but it was never as great as when Stan topped. There’s no way 6 years of being together was the sex between Kyle and Mason enjoyable. Stan curled his fingers upwards and Kyle’s hips immediately jerked upward as he let out a gasp, Stan kept thrusting towards that certain spot, and the redhead’s moans got louder. They locked eyes and Stan could see it. The desperation and the pleading. He quickly took his fingers out and leaned back up, pulling a condom out of his pocket.

Kyle chuckled and rolled his eyes, “Typical celebrity. Thinking he’ll get laid at any given time.”

Stan smirked as he slipped the condom on, “From where I’m standing, I’m right.” He began to stroke himself slowly, despite Kyle’s protests. With a quick move, he slowly lined himself up with Kyle’s entrance, slipping in slowly. Kyle exhaled, and Stan leaned over and kissed his temple, “God I missed you.” He whispered, and Kyle let out a shaky laugh, wrapping his hands around Stan’s neck, and they both rolled their hips.

Stan kissed down to Kyle’s neck, leaving more marks, and held one of the redhead’s arm above his head. He thrusted faster, trying to find that sweet spot that he knew was yearning to be touched. “Oh fuck!” Kyle leaned up abruptly, and Stan knew he’d hit it. He thrusted his hips upwards harder and held the back of Kyle’s hair, gripping it tightly to stop himself from coming, “Oh Jesus Christ, Stanley,” Kyle wrapped his legs around Stan’s waist and rolled his hips fast, “Fuck…keep going…fuck-shit!”

 “Hold it in, you can do it. Just wait.” Stan held onto Kyle’s back, lips still latched onto Kyles collarbone, another hand stroking him slowly.

Kyle’s moaning was getting louder. His hips were getting tired of moving, so he let Stan’s do all of the work. He gripped Stan’s back, possibly leaving scratches, “Oh my god. I love you.” He kissed his ear, nearly tearing up at the euphoric feeling, “I love you don’t ever leave me, Don’t ever fucking leave me again, shit!” He whined, throwing his head back, “Oh fuck, Stanley!”

The sound of his full name sent a shiver down Stan’s back, he let out a moan and gave one last thrust before releasing into the condom. Kyle came quickly after, landing up against his and Stan’s chest. His legs were shaking uncontrollably. Stan collapsed on top of him, ignoring the sticky semen right under him, “I won’t. Never again,” he muttered. It took Kyle a minute to figure out what Stan was talking about, but when it finally hit him, he smiled, stroking his lover’s hair. For the first time in 10 years, the world was still again.

 

* * *

 

                When Kyle woke up, the only light emitting from the room was the hallway light from the door wide open. He looked at the time, sighing as he saw his nap was longer than he wanted it to be. A three-hour nap was a good sign a vacation was long overdue. Kyle slowly got up out of bed put on one of his husband’s flannels on himself, not worrying about pants. He made his way to the living room, smiling when he heard the guitar playing softly outside on the back porch.

He quietly made his way outside, ignoring the cool air on his bare legs, and rubbed his face against his husband’s back, who was sitting up on the deck railing, “I thought you retired.”

Stan smirked and turned his body. He slowly put his guitar down, and ran a hand through Kyle’s curls, which he finally convinced him to grow out, “Doesn’t mean I can make a comeback. I think you’ll like some of the new songs.”

Kyle chuckled and picked up the cigarette that was in the ashtray, “I told you to wake me up at 6 if I wasn’t awake.” He took a drag, blowing the smoke in Stan’s face.

Stan got off of the railing and put his hands on Kyle’s hips, “You’ve been stressing out a lot, lately, dude. It’s Friday,” he kissed his neck slightly, “Call out on sick on Monday and have a nice three-day weekend with me.” He nipped at Kyle’s neck and Kyle chuckled, running a hand through his husband’s hair.

                They didn’t end up going to Maine like Stan said in his letter. After a month being reunited, Stan lived with Kyle and Red for two years, helping and supporting Kyle through the divorce. Stan came out with a third album titled Kyle, which many of his previous fans were disappointed with. It wasn’t the same pop music that he was being forced to do for 10 years. It was his own music. His own lyrics. And just him and his guitar. He retired after that. They did move to Eatonville, a small town in Washington that was only an hour drive to Seattle. Stan bought Sharon a nice house there, relatively close to Shelley. Randy stayed in L.A., but Stan visited his father as much as he could, even if he still drove him crazy. Since Stan was living a so called boring life and was nearly in his 30s, the paparazzi died down, but he still had a few people talk about him and ask him questions over the years. Kyle had a job as a pharmacist, but he was working way too hard for Stan’s liking.

“Our anniversary is coming up,” Stan muttered against Kyle’s neck.  

“Which one?” Kyle asked, taking another drag. They joked about how many anniversaries they had. The day they met (only knowing that because Sheila has a picture of their first playdate when they were a year and a half, the pack dating ‘July 24th’), the day they started dating in high school (October 20th, the day after Stan’s 15 birthday), the day they were reunited (December 12th), or their wedding anniversary (October 2nd).

“Our marriage, smartass,” Stan smirked before kissing his temple, “Nine years. Officially longer than your first marriage.”

“Oh fuck off” Kyle wrapped his arms around Stan, kissing him deeply. He tasted like menthol cigarettes, and Stan’s memory went racing back to the last night they spent at Stark’s Pond when they were 16. Over 20 years ago, and Kyle still makes him feel like he did the first night they ever kissed.

It took a lot of convincing, but Kyle decided to take a whole week off on their anniversary. They mostly stayed home. Only going out if they needed food. Stan played his guitar a lot, and Kyle took in all of the songs, not being shy to critique him at anything he wasn’t a big fan of. They watched old episodes of Terrance and Philip, and obviously Stan was determined to fuck Kyle every single square root of the house in that one week. They both agreed they had made some stupid decisions as kids. But in the end, they were together again. And whatever challenge they’d face next, this time they would have each other. And Stan’s life would never fall out of proportion again.

 


End file.
